


Tender and merciful

by ghostly



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Barebacking, Beltane, Blow Jobs, Bottom Merlin, M/M, Magic Revealed, PWP, Rimming, Top Arthur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-05
Updated: 2014-03-05
Packaged: 2018-01-14 17:02:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1274251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostly/pseuds/ghostly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wants to be tender and merciful. That sounds overly valorous. Sounds like penance. (There's really no need for a summary, this is just PWP)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tender and merciful

**Author's Note:**

> The quote in the summary and title is from Richard Silken’s Unfinished Duet.
> 
> This fic is situated around the first season. I guess. It's not like it matters much (this is really PWP).
> 
> English is not my first language, I'm sorry for any mistakes!

Merlin wakes with tender kisses to his neck, Arthur’s weight pressing him to the mattress.

“Nnnhh” he groans, trying to shift away, but the action only makes Arthur’s hard cock slide between his buttocks; Arthur gasps next to his ear, presses down harder.

Merlin moans, his open mouth dragging across the cotton of the pillows. He drags his knees up, lifting his arse, and Arthur’s hands are big and warm on his hipbones, securing him in place. Arthur ruts his cock on the inside of his thighs, while one hand travels down from Merlin’s hip to his hole, two fingers pressing inside, where’s still loose but not wet enough from when they fucked before falling asleep. 

Merlin’s eyes open a sliver, his cheek pressed to the pillow, and he can see the red drapes of Arthur’s bed, bathed in the soft morning light. Merlin should be getting Arthur’s breakfast, Arthur’s got early training with the knights – but it’s so easy to lose themselves in the perfect matching of their bodies. Merlin’s thoughts are abruptly interrupted when Arthur’s fingers come back, oiled, sliding easy inside him. 

They fuck like that, Merlin’s face smashed on the pillow, Arthur draped over him, breathing heavily, groaning at each delicious drag of his cock inside Merlin. 

Merlin comes with Arthur’s hand pulling his cock, Arthur’s teeth clapping down on his shoulder. Arthur thrusts uncoordinatedly a few more times and he’s coming too. 

 

* * *

 

There’s a feast that night, and Arthur has completely given up on listening to his father and the visiting Lord’s conversation. He sips on his wine, his eyes searching and finding Merlin across the crowded room. His manservant is slouched against a pillar, talking to Guinevere; the candlelight casts a harsher cut to his cheekbones, and Arthur gets a little lost trying to take in every feature of Merlin’s profile. 

He startles when he feels long nails digging in his thigh. He turns to see Morgana, her mouth set in a thin line, but her eyes alight with amusement. “Control yourself, or Uther will notice.”

 “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 She snorts, very un-lady like. “Of course. Try to be more subtle next time you’re trying to devour your manservant with your eyes.”

 Merlin appears then, to pour him more wine, and Arthur can’t resist the opportunity to skim his knuckles lightly across the back of Merlin’s knees. He pretends not to see Merlin’s hands tremble, or Morgana’s disapproving expression.

 Uther is thankfully oblivious to it all, even when Arthur says something about going to talk to Sir Bedevere and gets up, heading for the door instead, followed shortly by his manservant, who looks oddly flustered.

 

* * *

 

This is how it began. 

Arthur is standing next to the dead creature, and he looks angry and betrayed, his hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. Merlin fears for a second Arthur won’t loose his grip on his sword, but he ends up throwing the weapon far away with unnecessary force, like a spoilt child. He schools his face blank, his silence promising the worst.

 Arthur starts talking and his voice is painfully controlled, “You deceived me, lied to me, all this time—“

 “I didn’t want to, Arthur, I swear, you must trust me—“

 And it’s like Merlin couldn’t have said anything worse, because Arthur is surging at him, his gloved hands gripping Merlin’s forearms tightly, bringing them up.

 “I _must_?” Finally it’s there, the rage, aflame in his eyes. “You forget your place. Again. Maybe for the last time.”

 “No, please, Arthur..”

 “And trust! _Trust_! How rich of you, after everything!” He laughs like a crazed man. “There, Merlin, something good about you, you’re amusing, even if you’re a fucking sorcerer—“

 “Arthur.” Merlin says, his eyes screwed shut. “Arthur, you’re hurting me.”

 Arthur looks then, at his own hands, shaking with the force of his grip on Merlin’s forearms. He releases it suddenly, and Merlin falls, a pained grunt as his back lands on the forest ground. He doesn’t have time to catch his breath, and Arthur in on him. He expects a blow, but Arthur just lowers his face, hides it on the curve of Merlin’s neck.

 “I should. Hurt you. Kill you.” And his voice is so weak. Merlin raises his bruised arms to envelope Arthur’s shoulders in an awkward hug, and the prince sags his weight against him, trembling, and it’s so terrible, to know Arthur’s hurting and that he was the one to do it.

 “Why did it have to be you,” Arthur continues, after a few moments of them just lying there, breathing, settling. “Out of everyone I expected to betray me.”

 And Merlin wants to say he’s sorry, for lying, but he’s never betrayed Arthur, and he never will. That he’s sorry for ruining the confidence Arthur had in him; he’s sorry because he knows things will change, and their easy comradeship will never go back to the way it used to be, but they will find a way, they’ll change, together.

 He wants to explain how Arthur is the whole world to him, and everything he is, is now, devoid of secrets, laid bare there for Arthur, only for him.

 So he cradles Arthur’s face in his hands, taking it away from where it was pressed against his neck, and kisses him, because he has no words, and Arthur wouldn’t hear them anyway. It’s sweet like a promise, and it lasts the long minutes Arthur lets himself be comforted.

 They get up, dust themselves off, and Merlin hesitates before following Arthur, who is already several paces ahead him. It’s dark when they reach the castle, and Arthur goes straight to his room. He sits on his bed, gaze lost somewhere between the cracks on the wall, and Merlin stands on the doorway, restless.

 When Arthur mentions for him to come closer, he does gratefully, bending down to kiss him again. And if Arthur is surprised, he doesn’t show it – he just grabs Merlin’s waist and lifts him into his lap. And now there’s something hungrier, hotter, in him, which makes him press his groin to Arthur’s, makes their desperation rise, makes them get out of their clothes hastily, makes them fall into bed, panting.

 Merlin sucks Arthur’s cock, eyes full of devotion. He laps at the head, kisses the underside, let’s his spit cover it shiny. Between pleased noises, though, Arthur stops him, grabbing his hair and pulling him up. Merlin doesn’t understand, until Arthur is grabbing a bottle of oil, and asking, pained, needy, “can I?”

 So Merlin lies on the velvety sheets, his knees almost touching his chest, spread wide for Arthur, who works, gently, patiently, his fingers inside, tonguing at the rim at the same time, making Merlin flush scarlet. Three fingers in and it’s kind of weird, and uncomfortable, but Arthur distracts him, sucking on his cock, his sack.

 Then it’s pain, when Arthur’s cock is finally inside him, but Merlin doesn’t want to be distracted from it, because it’s also pleasure, so much that it’s almost overwhelming, how he suddenly understands all that nonsense talk about two halves.

 

* * *

 

 Merlin barely has time to close the door and Arthur is grabbing him, grunting “Took you long enough”. Merlin doesn’t let himself be manhandled though, and shoves Arthur on the bed instead, climbing until he’s settled astride him.

 He starts rotating his hips in small circles, watching delighted as Arthur curses, then opens his mouth in a moan. “What’s gotten into you?” He says, out of breath, sounding not bothered by it at all.

 “I’ve thought about this all day.” Merlin says, lifting his tunic, tossing it aside, brushing his hands on his nipples for a moment. Arthur’s eyes are black with lust.

 “Not that long. It’s only past noon now.” Arthur says in a mocking tone, which is broken by a blunter press of Merlin’s ass against his already painfully hard cock.

 “Unlike some royal prats who lazy around, I’ve woken with the sun today.”

 “Then you must have neglected your chores, if you had time to fantasize about your prince.”

 Merlin smiles, “My prince”, he repeats softly, and Arthur flushes, grabbing his hips and pulling him down, trying to mask it as arousal. “I’m ready for you, my prince.”

 Arthur’s pupils dilate further. “Ready...?”

 Merlin lifts himself, to take off his breeches and underclothes. He grabs Arthur’s hand, and guides it to his opening, wet with oil, stretched by his own fingers earlier that day. He hears Arthur’s sharp intake of breath, and opens his eyes to see him hurriedly tugging the laces of his own breeches.

 Merlin helps him take off the rest of his clothing, admiring Arthur’s naked form; his wide shoulders, the strong muscles of it, the light hair covering his chest, reappearing coarser at his navel, down to his red and thick cock. He strokes it lovingly, watching as a drop of precome forms at the head – then he holds it while he lowers himself on it, moaning loudly at the feeling of being stretched open again.

 Arthur can’t seem to be able to keep his eyes fully open, like he’s feverish, stuck halfway in a dream. His skin looks golden under the afternoon light, his yellow hair like a halo against the white pillows.

 “You’re so beautiful”, Merlin says, throat stuck in a moan, working his hips up and down.

 Arthur makes a sound that would’ve been a laugh wasn’t he so breathless. “Me? Look at _you_.” He says appreciatively, stroking his hand up Merlin’s belly, the other gripping his hip and guiding his movements.

 “What about me?”

 “You look... magical,” And Arthur has learned to say those words and mean it as a good, a unique and wonderful thing. Merlin smiles, pleased, and rewards him by rising higher, sinking down harder. Arthur almost chokes before saying, clearly unthinkingly, “like a faerie.”

 “A _faerie_?” Merlin can’t help but laugh.

 Arthur frowns, like he was the one entitled to feel offended. “A devilish one, surely.”

 Merlin laughs again, and Arthur seems to decide he’s had enough of it, so he flips them over, and starts thrusting fast, knocking all the laugh out of Merlin, leaving only white hot pleasure.

 “A devilish faerie that bewitched a prince.” Merlin says between pants, staring up at Arthur’s adoring eyes.

 “And what does this faerie want from the prince?” Arthur keeps their game, lowering his body and plastering his sweaty front to Merlin’s.

 Merlin brings a hand to cup Arthur’s neck, pull him closer, and say in his ear, “His title, his strength, his life. His love and his seed.”

 Arthur’s whole body trembles, and he drives into Merlin almost punishingly, and it’s good, better than good, it’s perfect and it is heaven. He feels Arthur’s come inside him, still fucking his cock in through his orgasm, and Merlin comes then, thinking about stealing his share of the prince.

 

* * *

 

 King Uther might have banished magic from his kingdom, but he wasn’t a fool to take his people’s rituals from them. So when Beltane comes, the time to appease the gods of the forest, he orders that the servants decorate the castle, and arranges for fires to be lightened across the woods. One night, of masked men and women dancing, of free desires and free spirits.

 Arthur puts on his mask, which is supposedly nothing specific, but Merlin can see clearly a scaled dragon. He studies his, the sharp white and brown and grey feathers – Arthur gave it to him, as he thought it would be funny, because of his name. It’s actually an intricate piece, beautiful even, _and_ , Merlin thinks as he places it on his face, looking at the mirror, _makes him look quite mysterious_. It’s not as intimidating as Arthur’s, but just as regal.

 Arthur appears behind him on the mirror, placing his hands on Merlin’s hips. “Little hawk.” He says playfully.

 “Pen _dragon_.” Merlin retorts, making fun of him too.

 “Don’t fly too far tonight.” Arthur continues, kissing the skin behind his ear, making him sigh contently. “Don’t get caught before I find you.”

 “I’m here now,” Merlin gestures to their surroundings, the secure and known walls of Arthur’s room. “Why not just skip it?”

 “And cut through the thrill of the chase?” Arthur smiles wolfishly.

 Merlin shrugs, hoping the mask conceals his excitement. “Have it your way.”

 Arthur smiles wider.

 

* * *

 

 Merlin uses magic so none of the drunken fools stumbling through the night take notice of him. He has to change his path several times because of two (or more) bodies tangled together on the forest’s mossy ground, their sounds of pleasure making him embarrassed.

 He’s wondering when Arthur’s planning to find him, or if he decided to catch another to spend Beltane’s night with – an icy jealousy settles on his stomach at the thought – when the prince appears between the trees across the clearing. He’s several feet away but Merlin can see his pleased grin, teeth gleaming in the light cast by the fire not far from them.

 “I was starting to think I’d have to catch you myself.” Merlin taunts, leaning back towards the bark of an old tree.

 “You cheated, you devilish faerie.”

 Merlin laughs, but the memory only winds him up more. He keeps still as Arthur stalks closer, slowly, barely making a sound, like a hunter trying not to startle his prey.

  “You said I shouldn’t get caught by another. I was merely following your orders.” He says, like he’s as compliant as a lamb, which is so far from the truth that it makes both their mouths twist into smirks.

 “So obedient.” Now Arthur is close enough that, should he try to jump forward, seize Merlin and bring him down, he could. But Merlin knows he won’t try such unrefined move until he’s run out of choices. Still, he pushes off the tree, and starts walking backwards.

 Arthur’s eyes narrow.

 “Now, there’s no need to make this more difficult than it’s already been.”

 “But I thought you liked the _thrill of the chase_.”

 Arthur scowls, and Merlin has to keep himself from laughing.

 “Yield now and I’ll be gentle.”

 “Oh, promises.” Merlin grins widely.

 Arthur loses his calm then, and starts running, and Merlin turns around and starts running too, the forest a shadowy maze, his heart beating so loudly in his ears he can barely hear Arthur’s footfalls behind him.

 It’ too silent and, helplessly intrigued by it, but without stop running, he looks back – and there’s nothing but trees behind him in the dim nightlight. He stops abruptly, tripping over his own feet, falling face first on the grass. He grunts, turning on his back, and he should be more surprised when a familiar body settles above his.

 “Easy.” Arthur says, but he’s a bit breathless, his face pinked by exercise.

 “Can I ask how the hell did you do that without magic?”

 “Maybe I’m a bit magic myself.” Arthur grins triumphantly, closing one hand on both Merlin’s wrists and dragging them above his head. Merlin lets his body go pliant, lets the champion take his prize.

 “I don’t doubt it.”

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this fic like two years ago, and at the time I posted it on tumblr (which I deleted shortly after lmao), so it's possible some of you already read this! I thought I had lost this fic but I found it again yesterday going through my computer's seemingly infinite Word docs, and thought I would share it, even if it's embarrassingly porny ahskjhs
> 
> Comments/kudos are very appreciated! Also if you can find any grammar mistakes please inform me and I'll correct it! ;)


End file.
